The War of the Worlds
hansom cabs, and carriages hurrying along, and the dust
hung in heavy clouds along the road to St. Albans.
It was perhaps a vague idea of making his way to
Chelmsford, where some friends of his lived, that at last
induced my brother to strike into a quiet lane running
eastward. Presently he came upon a stile, and, crossing it,
followed a footpath northeastward. He passed near several
farmhouses and some little places whose names he did not
learn. He saw few fugitives until, in a grass lane towards
High Barnet, he happened upon two ladies who became
his fellow travellers. He came upon them just in time to
save them.
He heard their screams, and, hurrying round the corner,
saw a couple of men struggling to drag them out of the
little pony-chaise in which they had been driving, while a
third with difficulty held the frightened pony’s head. One
of the ladies, a short woman dressed in white, was simply
screaming; the other, a dark, slender figure, slashed at the
man who gripped her arm with a whip she held in her
disengaged hand.
My brother immediately grasped the situation, shouted,
and hurried towards the struggle. One of the men desisted
and turned towards him, and my brother, realising from
his an- tagonist’s face that a fight was unavoidable, and
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